


Surprises

by sapphirelance



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: Alternate Marriage Proposal, Birthday Party, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 20:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirelance/pseuds/sapphirelance
Summary: Dylas has been working his tail off in preparation for not only Porcoline's surprise party, but other important things involving his girlfriend and the town's princess, Frey. Trying to hold them both at bay to finish their surprises is not working out the way he intended.





	1. A Present for Porcoline

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever stop writing fluff? The answer is no, no I won't. Sorry if there's any holes in here, I spent all weekend editing it and I'm tired of it all.
> 
> Dylas and Frey get stuck babysitting Porcoline. Changing some events around a little simply for the sake of the story. I love RF4, and the events (although they suck to try and trigger) they are pretty cute. This is just a different take on things.

“Ugh! How come this keeps happening?” 

 

Frey’s whines were cute, Dylas had to admit. The way her voice rose an octave or two, squeaking out her frustrations melted him to the core every time. Despite her being clearly upset, he couldn’t help but crack a smile—even chuckle a little bit. Frey’s eyes narrowed, angling her face to look up at him.

 

“Oh, sure,” she sighed. “Laugh it up, Dylas. It’s getting really annoying.” Though she was pretty frustrated with this new hook she had made, failing to keep her bait in place and resulting in an empty bucket, she couldn’t help but return his smile a little. Hearing his laughter (even under his breath) wasn’t something she heard near often enough.

 

“I think your design might need some tweaking,” he said. He reached over to help her with her fishing pole, impaling another worm through the hook, winding it around a few times to keep it in place. “You should definitely catch something now.”

 

“I’m half tempted to go back to the originals,” Frey said, looking towards her tackle box. “This design was supposed to work…” With a swift motion, Frey expertly cast her line into Dragon Lake, watching it fall into the water with a _ploop!_

 

The autumn day had been fairly mild and perfect for fishing. Frey found herself chilled now that she was sitting still, instead of running around town as she usually did. She snuggled up beside Dylas, feeling his warmth along side her, leaning her head on his shoulder. He stiffened at first. Even after a year or so of dating, he still was taken by surprise when she showed him physical affection. He hated that about himself, but he was getting better.

 

Dylas wrapped an arm around Frey in return, holding his fishing pole with the other. His silvery locks tangled in with her mint ones as she snuggled deeper into his side. She let out a small sigh of contentment. 

 

The bucket that had sat behind them was full to the brim with salmon (that Dylas had caught). Porcoline had asked him to catch more for the restaurant, since they were in high demand this season. Frey decided to join her boyfriend after her chores were done, hoping to spend even a little bit of time with him. Both were tired after long days of work; Frey with her farming, monster upkeep, and exploring Leon Karnak. Dylas from working his tail off at the restaurant, cooking dishes and cleaning up for most of the day. The quietness of the autumn afternoon and just the two of them peacefully fishing had been pleasant.

 

“Ah! There you are!” A familiar voice broke the tranquility. 

 

Dylas groaned as he shifted his weight a little, turning around to see Margaret walking towards them. He shifted enough to expose Frey at his side, nearly asleep. Margaret flushed, halting immediately in her tracks. 

 

“Oh, sorry!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know you guys had a date today. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

 

“Hi Meg,” Frey said, nearly yawning. “What’s going on?” 

 

“Well, I uh…I came because I needed to find Dylas, actually,” she replied, not meeting Frey’s gaze.

 

“What do you want?!” Dylas barked, his tone harsher than he had intended, but he didn’t bother apologizing for it. Frey touched his knee gently, subtly reminding him to reign in his wild tongue. 

 

Margaret frowned, returning to her normal self. “You big grump. You were supposed to help me with keeping Porco occupied, remember? I need him out of the restaurant so Arthur and I can finish up!” 

 

“Dammit,” Dylas cursed. “Sorry. I forgot.” 

 

“Uh-huh,” Margaret snickered. “You just wanted to spend time with your girlfriend!”

 

“Hey!” Dylas growled. Frey just laughed, making Dylas flush bright red. Standing up from the ground, she rose to her tiptoes as she stretched her arms. Already Dylas longed for her warmth as she separated herself, feeling empty and void. 

 

“Is something the matter with the restaurant?” Frey asked. “Or with Porco?” 

 

“You don’t remember?” The surprise in Margaret’s tone worried Frey. Already, Frey flipped through her mental calendar, hoping maybe something would strike her memory. 

 

“We’re having Porcoline’s surprise birthday party tonight at the restaurant,” Margaret explained. She shot a glare at Dylas. “You did give her the invite, right?”

 

Dylas returned a glare in her direction, looking up from putting his poles away. “Hey, I didn’t forget to invite her. Frey’s been up for twenty-some hours. She’s tired,” he snipped. 

 

“Dylas, it’s okay,” Frey assured him. As if on cue, she hid a yawn behind her hand. “Sorry, Meg. I totally forgot.” 

 

“But you’ll be there, won’t you?” Margaret asked anxiously, twisting her sleeves of her shirt in her hands. Frey nodded. “Of course! I wouldn’t miss it. But it’s a good thing you came by, for _both_  our sakes.” Frey cast a teasing glance towards Dylas, who caught a split second of it and turned away just as quick, pink coloring his cheeks again. “What do you need us to help with?” 

 

Dylas frowned, more so out of concern verses annoyance. “Shouldn’t you rest a little? I mean, you’ve been up for a while and the party isn’t until later.” 

 

“I’ll be fine, Dylas,” she replied, taking her pole from him. “Besides, I think you might need a little help with the distraction mission. Porco might catch onto something if all of a sudden you want to hang out with him.”

 

Dylas sighed, hoisting the bucket of fish and his pole. She was right, as usual. Porcoline was normally pretty oblivious, living life in his own little world. Yet, there were definitely times he could be pretty astute. Dylas knew he wasn’t the most open type, and even though he and Porcoline got along fine, he would definitely cause some suspicion if he were to suddenly ask him to do something outside of work. 

 

Plus, much like everyone else in Selphia, Porcoline idolized Frey. He would certainly do whatever was asked of him as long as she was involved. 

 

“Great!” Margaret nearly squealed. “I had Porco go and get some groceries from Granny Blossom at the store, though he's probably going to wrap up pretty soon. I’ll see you later!” 

 

Margaret waved at them as she darted off towards the town. Dylas walked side by side with Frey past the clinic towards the central square. The sound of their shoes against the stone pavement echoed in tune with the tips of their poles as they swayed and bounced into one another with soft clicks. 

 

With a sigh, Dylas shifted the hefty bucket to his other hand, relieving the reddened skin of its burden. “What are we gonna do with all this crap?”

 

“Put it in my room for now, I’m sure it’ll be fine for a little bit,” Frey replied, scanning the open area for any signs of Porcoline. 

 

“Even the fish?” 

 

“There’s room in my fridge if you want to put them in there. They’ll stay better that way.” Frey looked up at him, angling her face once again to properly see him. A soft smile tugged the corners of her lips. “Okay?” 

 

Dylas didn’t reply, looking towards the castle hesitantly. She tugged on his jacket collar gently, pulling him down more to her height. With a quick bounce on her toes, she reached up and pecked him on the cheek. “You _are_ allowed to go in there Dylas,” she said with a smirk. “I’m going to go and find Porco before he tries to get to the restaurant.” 

 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get lost, already!” Dylas tried to cover his pink cheeks as he turned away. Frey just laughed, letting him stew over his embarrassment. He was so easy to fluster and she loved it.

 

Heading towards the general store, Frey picked up her pace. Her boot heels clacked against the pavement in an earnest melody as she raced down another little stairway to the store front. 

 

There, coming out of the front door was the familiar spherical figure with long flowing hair, clad in bold colors from head to toe—definitely all belonging to Porcoline De Sainte Coquille. She also spotted the bright red mop of Doug’s hair, coming out the front door. 

 

Frey slowed her jog as her boots hit the little set of stairs, going down them carefully. Doug smiled at her from behind two large parcels he carried, barring most of his face from sight. Frey quickly deduced these were the groceries Margaret had told her about.

 

Porcoline caught eye of her, his bright eyes sparkling. “ _Super_ good morning!” 

 

Frey sighed, smiling a tired smile at the pair. “Porco, you do realize it’s well past morning, right?” 

 

“It isn’t? Oh, no! The whole day is just flying right past me!” Porcoline looked the opposite of upset, doing an odd little twirl in place. 

 

“So, are you getting supplies?” Frey asked as she gestured towards Doug, still carrying the bags close to his chest. 

 

“Yes!” Porcoline exclaimed. “Dylas promised _moi_ he would catch a bucket full of fish for the restaurant. If he’s lived up to his promise, I shall need everything here to prepare the dishes!” 

 

“Oh he did. We caught quite a bunch for you.” Well, _that_  part was a little untrue, but Frey wasn’t about to tell him that.

 

“Excellent!” Porcoline started towards the restaurant. Frey stepped in swifty, moving her tiny frame in front of him to bar entry to the northern end of town. “You know, Porco, I think _Doug_ can handle dropping this stuff off. Why don’t we take a little walk? It’s nice outside today, don’t you think?” 

 

“B—what?!” Doug protested. Frey shot him a quick glance over Porcoline’s shoulder. “Please Doug? That way Porco can get his _mind off work for a bit_?” 

 

Seeming to catch on, Doug agreed. Still grumbling a little under his breath, but went on nonetheless. He readjusted the weight in his arms, trekking towards the restaurant. He barely was able to see over the height of the bags, full to the brim with assorted cooking ingredients, bumping into Dylas as he came around the corner. Frey wasn’t sure why Dylas had been coming from the north end of town, but kept her mouth shut.

 

“Hey, watch where you’re going, Horse-Face!” Doug quipped, thankful he didn’t drop his parcels. 

 

“What'd you just say, Pipsqueak?!” Dylas growled. 

 

“I said _Horse-Face_. H-O-R-S-E—”

 

“Jeez! Would you guys quit it?” Frey groaned, rubbing her face with her hand.

 

“F-A-C-E,” Doug finished, a smug smile plastered on his face. Dylas was about to offer a less-than-friendly rebuttal, when Porcoline cleared his throat.

 

“Now then, that is quite enough,” Porcoline said sternly. “You’re upsetting my precious Frey!” 

 

Frey was always surprised at how serious Porcoline could be, despite his typical demeanor. Not to mention she admired how quickly he could shut down the quarrels between the two famous rivals of Selphia. She went with it, playing up the part of upset princess with an exaggerated pouty lip jetting from her frown. Doug muttered something along the lines of an insult, continuing past Dylas and towards the restaurant. Dylas rolled his eyes, knowing without any doubt she was faking it, but didn’t attempt to pester the “pebble-brained” dwarf any further. He strode closer to Frey, ignoring the “Oooh-la-la!” from Porcoline.

 

“You can have your lover’s spat later,” Frey said, straightening his jacket. “Why don’t we go show Porcoline the fish we just caught? See if they’re good enough for the menu.” 

 

Dylas had to admit Frey was good at this. Part of him was worried half of their dates had been excuses to keep him busy while she plotted something devious. But those thoughts fled him quickly. Frey was too well-meaning and caring for that, even in her more devious moments. 

 

Dylas found himself getting distracted, looking down at her small, thin hands against his chest. Feeling their light, comforting pressure. How could her fingers be so small and yet able to handle everything she did on a daily basis?

 

Both snapped out of their trance, turning from one another to Porcoline, but as they glanced around, he was nowhere to be seen. The gourmand had simply vanished from sight.

 

“Shit, where did he go?” Dylas cursed. Able to spy far above Frey’s head, he scouted the immediate area. “Dammit, he can move quick.” 

 

“Let’s split up,” Frey suggested. “You cover the south end of town, I’ll check the north end. We need to keep him away for another half an hour.” 

 

“Got it.” 

 

The pair split. Frey took off towards the restaurant as fast as her tired legs could take her. She jogged up the stairs, briefly taking in the magnificent building before her. Porcoline tugged at the front door of the restaurant. Jiggling the handle in his hands, he was unable to get it to budge. 

 

“Porcoline?” Frey approached him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. 

 

“Why won’t it open?” he whined, not ceasing his fidgeting with the door handle. “I do believe I’m locked out!” 

 

“Doug must have accidentally done that when he brought the supplies inside,” Frey remarked. Hoping to be convincing enough to the gourmand, despite knowing Margaret had locked the door earlier on. 

 

“Oh my!” Porcoline sighed. Frey ushered him towards the castle. “Don’t worry, Porco. I know Dylas has an extra key. We’ll just have to find him and he’ll unlock it for you. Sound okay?” 

 

Porcoline nodded, forgetting instantly about his woes and gleefully surrendering to Frey’s lead. 

 

“I think he went towards the castle,” she said, gesturing him to turn towards her fields. 

 

“Who?” 

 

“Jeez…” 

 

~~Meanwhile~~

 

Dylas groaned once again, shaking his head. Where could Porcoline have disappeared to? It’s not like he was that small of a man to begin with, and Selphia was not a large town (a fact he experienced every damn day). He couldn’t have gone too far, could he?

 

Looking around the square, Dylas tried to find any signs of Porcoline. He pondered the idea of running into Frey’s room to get some bread and leave a trail of crumbs, maybe in a feeble attempt to bait him. No. That wouldn’t work. 

 

Frey probably had found Porcoline already, doing what Dylas himself should have been doing. What he promised to do, anyway. How incompetent could he be? Completely forgetting about his duties the moment his foot left the threshold of the restaurant, fishing pole in hand, leaving them all on Frey—as if she didn’t have enough to do already. Plus she had been awake for quite some time and needed her rest. It wasn’t fair to have everything end up on her plate. 

 

Then at the lake, all she wanted was to just spend time with him. He wanted it too. Instead, he found himself far more internally antsy than he wanted to be, making it difficult just to _be_ there with her. Yet he couldn’t resist her charm.

 

If he couldn’t even get his shit together, or help her with the smallest things, how could he even...

 

“Penny for your thoughts, Dylas?” He turned around, looking at Arthur, who stood behind him. Arthur pushed his glasses farther up his nose. He tucked away his notebook under his heavily-robed arm, taking a few strides in Dylas's direction.

 

“I thought you were helping Margaret?” he asked. “She told us that the you two were wrapping things up for tonight.” 

 

“Us?” Arthur inquired, looking around him. Dylas was undoubtably by himself. The former-Guardian flushed, turning away abruptly, his silvery hair flying with him. “Well, are you guys done or what?!” 

 

“She recruited Doug to finish assisting,” Arthur chuckled, not at all phased by Dylas’s curtness. “Quite honestly, they’ve finished everything up. She sent me to come and find you and Porcoline. Where is he?”

 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Dylas replied with a rueful sigh. “I screwed up. Now Frey’s involved in trying to keep him occupied until everything’s ready. I ran into Doug…and now I can’t find him.” Dylas wasn’t going to let on about how lost he had been in his thoughts with Frey in front of the store, leading to Porcoline slipping past them. It was all Doug’s fault anyway. Somehow.

 

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t ruin anything, Dylas,” Arthur said gently, giving him a sympathetic smile. “And I’m sure Frey was eager to help as well. You know better than most anyone what a bundle of energy she is.” 

 

“Yeah,” Dylas agreed absentmindedly, scuffling a dead leaf with his foot, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

 

“You might be relieved to know Porcoline _is_ with Frey. She intercepted him at the restaurant. I saw her bring him to her fields just a few minutes ago.” 

 

“She was smart to split up…” 

 

Arthur paused before deciding to speak up again. “Dylas, you haven’t looked well lately. Especially now. Care to talk about something? We can spare a few minutes.” 

 

Dylas shrugged, still kicking the dead leaves around on the ground. “I’m not good enough for Frey,” he finally said, his voice tight and quiet. He had trusted Arthur with quite a lot since his arrival; the subject of his girlfriend was not an exception as of late, now with things getting pretty serious between them.

 

“What brought this on?” Arthur asked. “I thought you were getting ready to…?” 

 

“What’s the point? I clearly can’t do anything to help her, or help the town or anything. The last thing Frey needs is a deadbeat.” Dylas sighed forcefully. Arthur could see his eyes welling up a little, noting Dylas’s voice was still tight. 

 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Dylas,” Arthur said, quiet enough so the whole town wouldn’t overhear their conversation, but loud enough for Dylas to hear. “When you came here two years ago, you were trying to find your footing. Now you’ve had time to adjust, and _have_ adjusted quite well, if I might add. You might be rough-around-the-edges, but believe it or not, you’re well liked here. You’ve done a lot for the people here. For Venti. For Frey. You found yourself a job working with Porcoline and have become quite the chef.” Arthur’s gaze was reassuring. “You are anything _but_ a deadbeat.” 

 

Dylas remained silent. He heard the indistinct voice of Porcoline and Frey coming out of her chambers and into the square. Relief flooded her face. “Oh look, Porco! We found him. And Arthur! I’m sure one of them has to have a key to the restaurant.” 

 

“I’m hungry…” Porco murmured in reply. 

 

Both Dylas and Arthur joined with Frey and Porcoline, curious as to why they were in need of a key, but figured it was part of Frey’s distraction method. Dylas fished for the spare key out of his pocket, letting the metal reflect the afternoon sun. 

 

“C’mon Porcoline, let’s get you back home. I’ll even make you something to eat,” Dylas said, regaining his composure. Frey was thankful it was time to head to the restaurant. She felt her own stomach growl at her, though no one seemed to notice. 

 

The fall evening chill set into the air as the sun began to set. Frey shivered a little, standing beside Dylas to block the breeze. Once they reached the restaurant, Dylas slid his key into the slot of the front door, turning the latch of the handle. 

 

Inside, the dining room was pitch black. Frey shuddered—something about the total darkness seemed so eerie and foreign to the normally bright and lively building. She snickered to herself as she heard Dylas mutter, “Damn blockhead left the lights out too.” 

 

With a flick of the switch, light filled the dining room, revealing all of Margaret’s hard work and the rest of the townsfolk. Everyone in town had been crammed into the dining room, making it much cozier than normal. Every ounce of the room had been thoroughly decorated in colorful banners and streamers, wrapped around the stairway spindles and tacked to the walls. Sparkling confetti sprinkled on every table among fancy place settings. The counter was draped in more streamers. Atop the surface was full of deserts Dylas had baked earlier, now ready to be enjoyed. 

 

A chorus of voices shouted “Surprise!” as Porcoline stepped over the threshold.

 

Porcoline stood frozen in the doorway for a moment in awe. Arthur and Dylas stood on either side of him, coaxing him fully inside so the door could be shut to avoid the draft of the cool autumn air. Frey took his hand, pulling him simultaneously inside. Showing him towards the counter, where a fully-decorated birthday cake sat. Candles had been stuck into the pink frosting, waiting to be lit. 

 

“Happy Birthday, Porco!” Margaret exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. 

 

“You did all this for _moi_?” Porcoline asked after taking everything in. She nodded. “Dylas did all the baking, I did all the decorating, and Arthur did the planning. Are you surprised?” 

 

“And here I thought my precious Frey had been taking me on a date,” Porcoline sighed wantonly. Margaret shook her head, still smiling, “Oh, Porco…” 

 

The gourmand quickly forgot about the princess, warming up immediately to the cake. Forte lit the candles carefully. She had swiped the matches from Illuminata, who swiped them from Doug, who swiped them from Volkanon—determining neither of the three were trustworthy of handling anything flammable. She held some of the immature guests at bay with her sword, protecting the candles so no one could blow them out before Porcoline could.

 

After wishing Porcoline a happy birthday, closing with a wish and blowing out of the candles, the party officially began. 

 

After three glasses of punch and quick conversations with practically everyone, Frey found her exhaustion taking its toll. She took her glass, roaming around the crowd of people until she found her way into Arthur’s office, collapsing onto one of the sofas there. The joys of the party on the other side of the wall were still fairly loud and boisterous, but muffled with the closed door, giving her some much needed quiet. 

 

Eventually, she heard Dylas from behind her, entering the office. “I thought I’d find you in here.” 

 

Frey turned to him, watching him carry two plates of cake he had scrounged from the desert table. He joined her at the sofa, extending his legs out onto the coffee table, crossing one over the other. Handing her one of the plates, Dylas watched her carefully break apart a piece with her fork. Frey relished the light, fluffy cake; the icing just sweet enough, but not too sweet. She had donated the strawberries that had decorated the top, enjoying the fruits of her labor. 

 

“Mmm!” she moaned into her fork, leaning back into Dylas’s side like she had done at the lake. “I was hoping I’d get a piece of this.” 

 

“It’s not bad,” Dylas conceded, tilting his head. Frey raised a playful eyebrow, watching him out of the corner of her eye as she took another bite. “I’m surprised you’re eating it. Cake isn’t exactly your cup of tea.” 

 

Ugh, more puns. Now food puns. She’d been hanging around Porcoline too much. Dylas rolled his eyes.

 

“No, it’s not. I figured what I didn’t eat, you would,” Dylas said as he readied another bite. Instead of it going to his mouth, he fed it to Frey as gently as he could. He had envisioned himself doing this all day, praying he wouldn’t spill on her or anything. His knuckles went white around the fork handle. After he pulled it from her closed lips, she just laughed, wiping a piece of frosting off from her lip with her finger. She hovered her hand in front of her mouth. “You looked so intense as you were doing that.”

 

“Shut up!” 

 

The office had only dim lighting, but Frey didn’t need to see Dylas flush once again. She could feel the heat radiating off his face. She reached over easily, kissing him on his warm cheek. The smell of strawberries evident on her breath. Dylas shivered a little, doing his best to keep his cool as Frey set her empty plate on the table, leaning her head against his shoulder.

 

“Thanks for…you know, helping me today. With fishing, and all of this Porcoline stuff,” Dylas finally said, his voice quiet and low. Frey smiled tiredly, failing to keep her eyes open. 

 

“Oh, it’s no problem, babe,” she yawned. “It was fun, actually.” 

 

“How about I walk you back home?” Frey nodded, standing up with him. Both exited out the office door, leading outside. 

 

Frey shivered under the autumn breeze. Darkness had fallen completely, cloaking the night sky like spilled ink. The lamp posts lit their way back to the castle. Dylas kept Frey tucked safely and warmly under his arm, out of the sight of prying eyes for a change. 

 

They maneuvered through her fields carefully and through the back door of the palace to her room. Dylas got a fire going in the hearth while she changed into her nightgown behind the screen. She normally would do it out in the open, but she figured he was flustered enough already for one day. 

 

Once she emerged, Dylas surprised her by taking her up in his arms, lifting her up off the ground to make up for their difference in height, planting a kiss against her lips. It was still rough, but genuine all the same—and not as uncoordinated as it had been in the past. Frey smiled as he pulled away, setting her back down on the cold tile floor. 

 

“How about a real fishing date tomorrow?” she asked. He didn’t move from his spot, instead a hand went to the back of his neck absentmindedly. “Actually…I kinda…uhm.”

 

“Something wrong?” 

 

“No! No. Just…come to the square at noon tomorrow. I’ll show you then, okay?”

 

Frey agreed, bidding him goodnight as she made herself comfortable in her ample bed. By the time Dylas had left her room, the party had begun to wind down at the restaurant. Most of the guests had left, leaving just Margaret, Doug, Leon, Porcoline, and Dolce at the table. Arthur had retreated back to his office, finishing up a few things before turning in for the night. 

 

Dylas shut the door quietly behind him, hoping to not draw attention to himself. Arthur looked up at him, turning back to his desk. “Something I can do for you, Dylas?” 

 

“I was…” Dylas struggled for a breath, shakily drawing it inward as he approached Arthur’s desk. The prince glanced at him with concern, but softened when Dylas said his piece.

 

“I have something else I’d like to plan…With Frey. C-Could you maybe…help?” 

 

Arthur shut his notebook promptly. “I’d be delighted.” 


	2. A Present for Frey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur not only is a prince, but a party planner, counselor, and a coordinator of marriage proposals. 
> 
> There's also a reason mailboxes shouldn't talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to stick as closely to the in game event as I possibly could. I love Dylas's marriage event. I really do. But I did tweak things around a bit.

“Well, are you ready for this?”

 

Arthur watched as the former-Guardian paced his office early that next morning. With long strides, he quickly crossing one side of the room to the other like a caged animal. Waiting. Wanting. Dylas's tail swished nervously behind him. He had shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, though after a bit took one out to soothe the back of his neck. 

 

Arthur scribbled a note to himself at his desk, to potentially order a new carpet rug, shoving it under a notebook so Dylas wouldn’t see. If he kept this up, he’d burn a hole in it for sure. Arthur didn’t seem to mind however. Today was a big day. Dylas had every right to be nervous.

 

“Dylas?” Arthur asked again, this time a little louder than before, but not in an unkind fashion. 

 

Dylas lifted his head from gazing at his feet. Arthur’s words finally broke him from his trance and ceased his endless pacing. “Sorry…” 

 

“It’s quite all right,” Arthur replied, sifting through his papers at his desk. It was barely seven in the morning and he was already bright-eyed and hard at work. He had decided to get up a little early however, knowing Dylas would likely come to him before he set out for the day. Dylas had tacitly begun to trust in Arthur as a confidant; asking for advice on occasion at first, but now it was frequent. 

 

Dylas had trusted Arthur to help him plan for _today_ , after all. Probably the biggest day of his life so far. If that wasn’t a sign of trust on the sullen stallion’s end, Arthur wasn’t sure what was.  

 

“What if…” Dylas trailed off, glancing at the shoe moulding lining the bottom of the walls. “What if I’ve got this all wrong?” 

 

“Do you honestly think Frey would reject you?” Arthur asked from behind his desk, adjusting his glasses. Dylas shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to think at this point.” 

 

“Think of it this way,” Arthur said simply. “It’s not some stranger you’re proposing to. It’s Frey. The very same Frey who you have become so close to.” Arthur paused, letting his words sink in.

 

“And, we did run over those scenarios last night, remember? You know what to do even if she would say ’no’.” 

 

Dylas remembered vividly the night before as the two role-played this out, hoping to maybe calm his thoughts. Doug had walked in on them in the office to say good-bye after the party ended. Of course, it had been completely the _worst_ time possible for him to enter. After plenty of teasing, screaming, and threatening, Dylas made sure Doug would keep his mouth shut about everything. Cementing his resolve by shoving Doug into the wall, holding him up in the air by only his shirt front.

 

Arthur stood from his desk, walking around to Dylas. “Just be genuine and honest. You’ve put a lot of thought and effort into this, now let it work for you.” 

 

With that, Arthur left the office, leaving Dylas alone with his thoughts. Dylas relaxed the fist he had clenched, exhaling forcefully once more in an attempt to rid his body of tension. He could do this. He could do this.

 

Could he?

 

Deciding some distraction was in order, Dylas left the office as well, heading into the kitchen. He scoured the entire kitchen, pulling out the ingredients Porcoline would need prepped for the menu items that day. Beginning to wash the veggies in the large sink, Dylas found himself relaxing more as he kept working. The cold water splashing onto his rough hands seemed to help keep him focused. His fingers went numb after a bit, but he kept going. Trying to not think about the painstaking 5 more hours until he’d meet Frey. Why did he make their meeting time so late, again? 

 

Arthur had insisted Dylas get some rest. Bado had insisted he would need time to prep the forge for them when Dylas approached him last night, just before he left the party for Porcoline. Arthur had explained the situation, shutting down Dylas’s incoherent babbling. Happy to oblige, Bado once more offered his forge to Dylas and Frey to use. 

 

The plan was set. Dylas would get Frey’s ring size, he’d forge the ring after their date, then he’d finish his baking, and Margaret, Porcoline, and Arthur would insist on Frey joining them for dinner tonight at the restaurant. Thankfully, they had all been in on the plan too, despite Dylas’s original embarrassed protest.

 

And time went ever so slowly.

 

…Until Margaret showed up. 

 

“Dylas, what are you doing?” she asked, setting her harp down near the piano in the dining room. “The restaurant’s not gonna open up for a while.” 

 

“What do you care?” Dylas snapped. Margaret didn’t even flinch. Having been exposed to Dylas for the past two years, she had been more than used to his moods. 

 

“I care because you’ve basically _murdered_ that potato.” 

 

Dylas looked down at the cutting board. Instead of nicely dicing the potatoes like had been doing, this one turned out mashed. It’s contents caked into the creases of the cutting board.

 

“Shut up! What do you know, anyway?!” Dylas grumbled, scraping the remains of the potato off the board and into the trash before grabbing another one. 

 

“I know how to cut a potato,” Margaret said plainly. Dylas was about ready to snap, but stopped cold when he saw the smile on Margaret’s face. 

 

“It’s the big day, isn’t it?” she asked, unable to hide the giddiness in her expression. “Are you excited?” 

 

Dylas stayed quiet, hoping she’d go away if maybe he just ignored her long enough. Though, he knew from two years of experience, that wasn’t an effective tactic.

 

“Oh c’mon, Dylas! Indulge me for a change,” Margaret teased, practically skipping over to the opening in the front counter, standing next to his towering figure. 

 

He didn’t reply. All his energy went into _neatly_  cutting this next potato. Margaret watched his white knuckles wrap over the knife, forcefully slicing through the flesh of the root. He nearly jumped out of his skin after Margaret placed a hand on his arm, freezing him in place instead.

 

“You’re gonna be fine, Dylas,” she whispered, smiling at him. Leaving the counter, she sped off towards the front door. “We’ll see you tonight!” 

 

Tonight. Dylas felt his heart pounding in his chest and was ready to bet a hundred gold it would give out long before then.

 

~~

 

Frey loved that Dylas had actually planned something.

 

Normally, both were pretty go-with-the-flow types when it came to their dates. Usually only deciding the night before where to go or what to do. Frey liked their flexibility, but it was just as nice to see Dylas had something already prepared. And he lad left it pretty vague. Did he intend to surprise her? Just what was her sullen stallion plotting? 

 

Frey knew he had acted a little off yesterday. She figured it had to be the stress of the party and trying to get everything ready. He would never admit it, even to her, but she knew he cared significantly about many things, and even was a little perfectionistic at times. Having to serve his own baking creations to Porcoline had definitely stressed him out. Plus, large, boisterous crowds weren’t exactly his thing. And then she and him had to try and find Porcoline yesterday, attempting to keep him occupied… 

 

She also knew he had been worried about her after she had been up so late—more so than usual. The more she pondered the completely valid excuses, nothing seemed to satisfy an answer.

 

Frey had awoken to a vague note that Vishal had handed to her when he woke her up that next morning. Frey could point out Dylas’s scribbly penmanship a mile away. (And not just from the time she had snuck a peek at his diary.)

 

_Don’t get too dressed up, we’re going to the blacksmith._  Short and to the point, as usual. Frey set the paper on her nightstand and stood from her nest of sheets and blankets. Not like she would have gotten too dressed up, anyway. 

 

After changing her clothes to her usual attire, Frey turned to her daily chores. First heading to her barn, Frey checked the feed for her monsters. Making sure it was full enough, she gathered the milk, eggs, wool, or whatever they left for her to glean, setting it aside for later. Giving each monster a good, thorough brushing, she took up the goods once more, plopping them into her shipping bin. 

 

The fields were another matter. Harvesting all five would take some time, no doubt. Fall crops were her favorite, so of course everything was full to the brim. Piling the shipping bin full of yams, carrots, onions, cabbages, charm blues, and even the spare red crystal, Frey anxiously awaited either Clorica or Vishnal to take it away at 0800.

 

Walking back into her room, Frey made sure she looked halfway presentable before going out into town and making her rounds. She prepped a quick breakfast, wolfing it down before she stepped outside for her rounds. Frey made sure to say “hi” and “good morning” to everyone she passed, stopping for a few minutes to chat with Dolce, Bado, and Margaret—the latter requesting a favor.

 

“Frey, can you come to dinner tonight?” Margaret had asked her eagerly. “Porco’s gonna close up early tonight so we can enjoy a night off. We’d love it if you’d join us.” 

 

Frey smiled. “I’d love to, Meg, but I don’t want to intrude or anything. Especially if it’s time off—”

 

“No-no-no, nothing like that!” Margaret piped up, cutting Frey off mid-sentence. “Honest. We just want to have you over, that’s all.” 

 

“Well, okay then! If you insist,” Frey said. “What time?” 

 

“Six o’clock. Don’t be late!”  

 

Before Frey could say another word, Margaret had sped off in another direction. Frey didn’t bother spending too much time thinking on it, heading straight to Eliza to check the daily town requests. 

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything for you today.” Eliza’s words didn’t quite register with Frey. She tilted her head forward a little, her mint pigtails falling past her shoulders.

 

“Wait, really?” Frey asked. “There’s always something.” 

 

“Not today!” Eliza replied.

 

“That’s bizarre,” Frey murmured. “I wonder who took care of everything.” 

 

“Oh, Dylas did!” 

 

Frey stared blankly at the mailbox. “Dylas? _Our_  Dylas?” 

 

“I think so!” 

 

“Huh. I’ll be damned…” Frey mused. This was turning out to be a peculiar day. Dylas would be the type to help someone if they needed it, but it wasn’t in character for him to go _out_  and look in the request box.

 

“Oh wait, there is one here!” Eliza exclaimed. “It’s from me, but I think you did most everything here already…” 

 

“What is it?” Frey asked, perking up. 

 

“Well…never mind. Forget I said anything,” Eliza replied quickly. “You’ve done everything for the request anyway. Yay you!!” 

 

“But what _is_  it?” Frey asked again, this time much more earnest. It’s not like she could read Eliza’s face, since she had none. Frey had no idea if the mailbox was fooling her or not. That thought alone made her feel like an idiot. 

 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

 

There was a reason mailboxes shouldn’t talk. Frey heaved a sigh and retreated in defeat back to her room. It was only ten, leaving her two whole hours yet until she’d meet Dylas. Why did he choose a later hour this time? Frey picked up her dual blades, heading out of the castle. She hadn’t heard of a restlessness yet that couldn’t be cured with wiping out some monsters.

 

~~ 

 

“I’ll leave you two to your work,” Bado said as he went back to the front counter, leaving the pair to themselves. Frey was thankful there was no comment today about the fiery heat of their love forging the bellows—or something to that extent. She was happy she couldn’t remember it completely. 

 

Finally noon had hit and her and Dylas met at their usual spot outside of the castle. He still seemed tired, and even a little distant. He didn’t say much of anything during their walk to Bado’s shop. Frey wanted to slip her hand so badly into his, thinking maybe it would bring him back to reality. She knew for sure it would—any physical contact with her always did. She refrained however, unable to move her hands much past her sides. Something inside her forbade her to go any further.

 

Bado’s shop was a frequent spot for her and Dylas to go. Frey was surprisingly comfortable with the extreme warmth and harsh environment of the forge. Her calloused fingers and her flawless weapons stood as a testament to how often she did her own forging. 

 

Normally, there was idle chit chat from Bado to his guests, but the shop was eerily quiet. She hoped both of them might loosen up a little once they got to work on something. Frey turned to Dylas as she bounced on her heels, eager to hear what else he had planned for their date. “So, what did you have in mind to make today, Baby?” 

 

“You probably already made it, but,” Dylas said, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I was going to make you a Stay-Up Ring.” Once he said that, Frey could see some tension flee his towering frame. A small smirk even tugged at the corner of his lips. “Considering how insistent you are about staying up for days on end, it might help.” 

 

Frey laughed, joining Dylas at his side. “Fair enough. And surprisingly, no, I haven’t made one for me yet.” 

 

Within a half hour, both had finished their projects. Dylas admired his craftsmanship in his palm, the shiny metal reflecting back up at him in the light of the forge. He took a peek down at the ring Frey had forged as she wiped it clean with a rag. Her’s was undoubtably better, but still, he was pleased with his work. And it would look better once he could grind it smoother and polish it up nice.

 

But it was the size he needed, and that's what mattered. Plus, it was good added practice for later.

 

“You’re getting good at this, Babe,” Frey said, looking his work over with a smile. “That’s practically flawless.” 

 

“You think so, huh?” Dylas asked. He took her hand, sizing it against her finger. Frey watched him inspect the similarities in size, before returning her hand gently down to her side. 

 

“You can have it once I finish it up,” he said, already getting started on the finishing touches. “So that means you have to be in bed on time tonight.” 

 

“Like that’s gonna happen,” Frey scoffed. “Maybe you’ll just have to keep an eye on me.”

 

Frey nudged him playfully, an innocent giggle escaped her lips. Dylas shifted uneasily, his face aflame. 

 

“I’m just teasing you, Dylas,” Frey chuckled. “It’s okay.” 

 

There was a moment or two of silence before Dylas spoke up. “Did Margaret invite you over tonight yet?” 

 

Frey brushed aside a stray piece of her mint hair that had fallen from its tie, smudging her face a little with a dark streak across her cheek. “Yeah. Meg caught me earlier. I’m confused though. It’s only Wednesday, why is Porcoline closing the restaurant early?” 

 

Dylas stiffened. “No reason, really.” 

 

_Uh-huh,_  Frey thought, but didn’t speak it. “Just because, huh?” 

 

“I think after the party last night, he figured it might be a good idea,” Dylas explained, regaining his composure. Looking at her adorable face, he noted the dark oily streak and handed her a clean rag. “Here, you got a little something…” 

 

Frey wiped her face gently. Dylas placed the ring on the counter top, wiping his hands on a rag before tossing it aside. “Shall we go? I’ll walk you home.” 

 

“So soon? We haven’t really cleaned up or anything…” Frey noted. “We should do something at least, since Bado let us come here.” 

 

“I’m going to come back,” Dylas said, already ushering Frey towards the door. “I’ll take care of it.” 

 

“But—Wait, why?”

 

“Hey guys!” Margaret’s chipper voice stopped Frey again mid sentence. Frey watched as she entered Bado’s shop, ignoring the sales pitch he rolled off his tongue. “Sorry, did I come at a bad time?”

 

“No, we were finished,” Dylas said quickly, already heading back to the forge. Frey felt her heart sink a little.

 

“Oh, okay. Frey, Forte and I are gonna go out for a bit. Care to join us?” Margaret asked. 

 

_What is going on today?_  Frey watched helplessly as Dylas went into the back to work, going back to ignoring her. Her face fell. She watched as Bado turned from the failed pitch to joining him. Dylas’s body relaxed instantly, his eyes lighting up as Bado admired his work.

 

“Frey?” Margaret asked hesitantly. Frey turned back to the forge about to say something to Dylas, but when he locked eyes with her, she suddenly felt three inches tall. “Dylas—” 

 

**“Just get outta here, will ya!?”** he barked. **“I need to work!”**

 

The shop seemed to freeze entirely. A pin could drop and still be heard. Frey inhaled sharply at his tone. 

 

“What the hell is the matter with you, Dylas?” she demanded, pushing past Bado. She couldn’t help the tears spilling out of her eyes. His tone was a little hurtful, but that wasn’t what bothered her so much. 

 

“I know something’s wrong,” she said, her tone unwavering but soft. “I was hoping you’d talk about it, but if you’d rather push me away, I’ll go.” 

 

Dylas immediately realized his error. His face softened, but he didn’t move from his spot. He wanted to reach out and embrace her, genuinely apologizing for being an ass has he had done several times before.

 

Yet he stayed planted where he was, helplessly unable to move.

 

With that, Frey turned on her heels, tears flowing down her face. She pushed past Margaret and left Bado’s shop, walking through the town square until she entered her room in the castle, slamming the door behind her. 

 

~~

 

Frey spent the afternoon alone.

 

Her butlers had tried to enter her room on a few different occasions, no doubt they had probably heard what happened earlier. Frey denied them entry, simply needing some quiet space to figure things out. 

 

On one hand, Frey told herself that Dylas would come to her later, as he usually did once he thought about things that troubled him. That was all right, he was an adult, he could figure out his problems. Frey often did the same thing with him—so that wasn’t what upset her. Yet, it bothered her to see him mentally a thousand miles away.

 

Dylas could be frustrating, she knew that. She knew his moods well, and if she would just give him some space, he’d find her when he was ready. Frey was incredibly proud of him for taking the chance to trust her and the townsfolk, and letting them in little by little. Frey was a bit more of an open book, but she understood her boyfriend would be more of a two-steps-forward, one-step-back kind of person. 

 

And she was more than okay with that. But she also couldn’t deny the sting when he held her at arm’s length.

 

Working her energy into cooking, Frey spent the rest of the afternoon in the extra room she added on, cooking and baking everything she possibly could. Filling up her fridge with things for herself, she also prepared the extras to be shipped and sold. Frey mastered her pancakes and revised the recipe four different times—at the ready to make Venti an enormous stack for when Frey found her.

 

Oh Venti. She would know what to do in this situation. Frey missed the Divine Dragon so much anyway, times like this made it even harder. 

 

“Frey?” 

 

She turned at the sound of her name. Dylas stood sheepishly in the doorway of her extra room, his long silver hair cascading over part of his face until he pushed it aside. She paused, turning off the skillet as she completed her dish, putting it in a sealed container for shipping. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, filling Frey’s kitchen with a heavy silence.

 

“I tried to knock, but I don’t think you heard me,” Dylas finally said, his voice quiet. 

 

“I’ve been in here all day,” Frey admitted softly. 

 

“I came to see if you still wanted to join us for dinner. If you don’t, I totally understand.” 

 

Frey didn’t reply. The sensation of hot tears in her eyes bade her to look to the floor instead. She heard Dylas take a few steps closer to her, feeling the gentle weight of his solid hands on her shoulders. 

 

“I’m sorry, Frey,” he said in a still low, quiet voice. “Today…Today is a big deal.” 

 

“Why’s that?” Frey asked sincerely. 

 

“…I don’t want to say it. Not this way, anyway.” 

 

“What’re you talking about?” 

 

Dylas shook his head. “It’s…it’s complicated. And special. I-I don’t want to ruin anything.” 

 

Frey cocked her head curiously. Then she could help but laugh a little. Dylas frowned, “What’s so funny?” 

 

“I love you, dumb-ass,” Frey said, wiping her eyes. “I really do. But you make me weak sometimes. Whatever it is you’re hiding, it’s obviously important, but still really annoying!” 

 

Looking up at him, Frey noted a bruise forming along his jawline. Delicately, she reached up and lightly traced it with her fingers, making him hiss and wince.

 

“Sorry,” she whispered. “What happened here?” 

 

“Margaret decked me after you left the shop earlier,” he explained. “Bado got a good slug in too, right on my shoulder. I had it coming.” He shook his head again, still clearly upset with himself. “If I were them, I would have done the same thing.” 

 

Frey stood on her tip-toes, ghosting her lips across the bruise in a light kiss. “You’re a good person, Dylas.” 

 

Dylas smiled a weak smile, fading quickly. Frey knew he didn’t entirely believe her. Yet. It would take some time, but she knew the real Dylas underneath the gruffness. She had pestered him enough to make him show his true colors. He surprised her though by taking her hands in his, squeezing them reassuringly.

 

“There’s something I want to show you. Back at the restaurant,” he said. “If you’re willing to come with me, I think it might help make sense of things.” 

 

Frey wiped her eyes again. “I don’t really want to talk to anyone right now.” 

 

“Nobody’s there,” he replied. “I put a lot of effort into it. And I made you your favorite desert this morning at the very least.” 

 

“Well, I can’t really say _no_  to that, now can I?” 

 

Dylas led her out of her room, guiding her towards her fields out the back door with her hand still wrapped tightly in his. Walking around Frey's newly-planted crops, they made their way past the airship dock, turning to the restaurant. The town was still pretty lively, though the activity was dying down. Frey was thankful for a change that no one had approached them. She also took this activity as a good sign that there wasn’t another surprise party awaiting inside. 

 

Dylas opened the door for her, guiding her over the threshold into the dimly lit room as he shut the door gently behind them. Frey inspected everything carefully, still wondering what Dylas could be talking about. All the decorations from last night had been taken down, leaving no evidence at all that there had been a massive gathering there only hours ago. The smaller of the two tables in the dining room had been set with two place settings, one on each side. Frey noted the distinct smell of a warm stew coming from the pot on the table. Even though she had been cooking all day, she was just now starting to actually feel hungry. 

 

“Here, have a seat,” Dylas said, pulling out a chair for her. Frey watched him, but took the invite and sat down. He tucked her comfortably under the table, ladling out some of the stew for her into an empty bowl set on the table.

 

“I didn’t know you were cooking earlier,” he said as he set the bowl down. “Hope you’re still hungry.” 

 

“I actually haven’t eaten anything since breakfast,” Frey admitted, watching the little tendrils of steam rise into the air from her bowl. 

 

“Good. There’s an apple pie on the counter too if you want some.” 

 

Frey opened her mouth to ask a question. Dylas stopped her before she could even take a breath. “Yes, I have plenty of whipped cream.” 

 

Satisfied, Frey stirred her spoon into the stew, mixing the contents before taking a bite. The pair ate in comfortable silence Frey kicked off her boots under the table, setting her feet Dylas’s lap across from her. Much to her astonishment, Dylas didn’t even flinch. 

 

Eventually, he stood up to cut her a piece of pie that he promised. He handed it to Frey, watching her nearly drown it with whipped cream. Frey nearly melted into her chair, muttering “It’s so goooooood!” with her mouth full. Dylas laughed.

 

“I think it’s time for desert,” he finally said. Frey frowned, looking at her empty plate. 

 

“So what was this supposed to be?” she asked, wiping a little bit of whipped cream off her mouth with a napkin.

 

“Well,” Dylas said as he went to the counter. “This one is a bit different.” 

 

Frey watched as he returned back to her at the table, nothing in his hands. He didn’t sit down. Instead, he approached her from the side. Frey swung her legs over the side of the chair to face him. Dylas crouched to her level, taking her hands in his once again. 

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you with all this. But you know me—I’m not good with words and all that…” he trailed off. Frey broke his hold on one hand, brushing aside a piece of his hair, while she waited for him to continue.

 

“At first...I wasn’t sure if I’d like Selphia,” he confessed. “Last week was two years ago exactly that we met. When you rescued me from the Water Ruins, I wasn’t sure if things would ever go back to being normal. I’m not from this time, I don’t know the customs or anything. I didn’t want to get too close to anyone. As a result, I shut everyone out.” 

 

Frey waited patiently as he spoke, still lacing her fingers in his hair and running them through the silvery strands—a subtle reminder to Dylas of how caring she was. 

 

“But the people here accepted me for who and what I was,” he continued. “I wasn’t sure why they would. But after I thought about it, the answer came quickly to me.” 

 

“What was it?” Frey asked softly. 

 

“You,” he concluded. Frey’s hand ceased stroking his hair. Dylas took it back into his hand. “You changed me, Frey. But before that, even, you were constantly including me in things. You would always stop and chat, even if I yelled at you or something. The townsfolk followed your example I think when they started to get to know me. But you were the thing that healed my heart.” 

 

Frey could feel tears springing to life again. She didn’t interrupt him though, leaning into his hand as he brushed the tear away with his thumb.

 

"I like it here. And I want to stay here with you. I like everyone here, but it’s you that I love.”  

 

Frey drew an inward gasp as Dylas opened a small box he had tucked away in his pocket, exposing a delicate silver ring on the inside. He pulled it out so Frey could admire it, inspecting the intricate work. 

 

“This is what I was talking about,” Dylas said. “I was so nervous about today that it got the better of me. I didn’t want you to see what I was working on. I needed you to go with me today so I could get your size.” 

 

“You’re sneaky,” Frey breathed, wiping her face again. Dylas was thankful that she was truly oblivious sometimes. Did she really have no idea? 

 

“It’s nowhere near perfect, but I wanted to make it with my own two hands. So…” Dylas adjusted his weight onto one knee. “Frey, will you marry me?” 

 

Frey nodded rapidly, falling into his lap and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “Of course I will.” 

 

Dylas lifted her out of her chair, holding her as close as he could. After a moment or two, he set her on the counter so she was eye level with him. Sliding the ring on her finger, Frey wiped her eyes again with her arm.

 

“Here I thought you were leaving me for Doug,” she teased, breaking out into laughter. Dylas rolled his eyes, but unable to help the smile that erupted across his lips and the laughter that rumbled in his chest. 

 

“I still have to kick that pebble-brain dwarf’s ass for calling me Horse-Face yesterday,” he said, shaking his head. “But that can wait. I’ve spent enough time away from you.” 

 

“Wow, now I _really_ know you love me,” Frey remarked, squealing as Dylas scooped her back up in his arms, barraging her neck with tickling kisses. 

 

“And I never want to let you go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D'AAWWWW LOOK AT THEM THEY'RE SO CUTE.


End file.
